


Spaghetti Night

by Ambrosia29



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alexandria Safe-Zone, Beth Lives, Bethyl Smut Week, Bethyl Smut Week August 2016, Bodily Fluids, Cooking, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Kitchen Sex, Sexual Humor, Vaginal Fingering, late addition oops!, unsanitary cooking oops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 20:07:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8341066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ambrosia29/pseuds/Ambrosia29
Summary: Beth offers to cook dinner for Aaron and Eric's weekly Spaghetti Night - but where is Daryl?





	

The scent of onions and garlic filled the air and it was like Christmas again, it had been so long since the scents of such spaghetti had filled the air. At least, not quite like this. Months ago they’d found wild onion and brought it into Alexandria, buried them in pots with potting soil scavenged from a nearby botanical garden that had yielded yet more earthbound goodies such as flowers and herbs and plants they’d dared not move for fear of damaging them.

But the garden had been well hidden and they’d kept it that way to keep others from using the treasure they’d found. After the failure of the vegetable plot Maggie and the others had slaved over and fretted about it had been determined the soil had been too damaged the night the walkers had gotten inside and they’d nearly lost it all. For though they’d fought them back and kept most everyone safe in the end, the gore and putrid blood spilled over nearly the entire grounds that night had left irrevocable damage in the soil, no longer suitable for growth. They’d figured it out after they noticed the grass was dying in spite of the fresh water supply.

But these past few weeks everyone had been waiting in anticipation of the potatoes, onions, garlic, chives and tomatoes that had been growing. Once they’d been deemed ripe everything had been divided up, promise of kept seeds from everyone partaking and while a party was being thrown in the largest house, Aaron had invited her over for spaghetti – real spaghetti – which she’d volunteered to cook for them. So she’d left Eric and Aaron to some time alone while she cooked.

She stirred the sauce in the pan and let it simmer, adding a heavy sprinkling of spices from the large container Aaron had hoarded when they’d checked the contents of an abandoned pizza restaurant for flour and other foodstuffs.

The large wheel-turned ovens were being contemplated for moving next.

The simmering liquid sent a puff of steam into her face and she inhaled, smiling with anticipation. The water in another pan had started simmering: by the time it was boiling she would add the pasta and the sauce she’d been making would be ready to serve.

She sighed wistfully, envying Aaron and Eric their time alone, just a little. Daryl had vanished shortly after the announced celebration. She’d checked his room; his crossbow was gone and Eugene confessed he’d let him out the gates that morning. She glanced up at the falling night, a tiny bit of worry spearing her. He should have been back hours ago. It wasn’t like him to be out there after nightfall if he could help it: at least that’s what Maggie had remarked on since her return to them.

It was an open secret, the time they spent together since she found her family. No one had asked them about it but Beth had seen the knowing smile on Michonne’s face the morning after she’d snuck out of Daryl’s room.

Her back grew warm and though the heat was like the summer sun on her back, the breath against her neck, scent of leather and soap told her enough. Lips pressed gently to her shoulder and arms wound around her waist as she leaned back into his solid muscle.

He gave her a squeeze as she sighed and wound an arm back around his neck, big wooden spoon in hand still dripping sauce. “I missed you,” she murmured. She felt the bow of his lips as he smiled against her skin and was thrown back into memories of the night not too long ago they’d first made love. He’d smiled like that, then, after they’d stripped each other’s clothes with a tremulous combination of determined wonder and awkwardly made love. He’d come too soon and with those large strong hands, new scars telling a story he hadn’t the words for yet, slipped into her and stroked her insides until she’d trembled in his embrace. He’d been paying homage to her throat with lips and tongue and teeth experimentally until she’d clutched him and trembled. That was when she’d felt it; that secret delighted smile hidden against her skin.

“Thought I’d add something to dinner,” he said gently. She turned to look at him, blue eyes mischievous and proud. He lifted a hand and that’s when she saw it, smelled it beneath the strong odors of garlic and onion: roasted meat, salty and mouth-watering. “Been out huntin’ since the announcement, got lucky with a deer. Been over at Carol’s place borrowing the meat-grinder and cooking it in batches. Just finished deliverin’ some to everyone.” He scratched his neck and looked down at his prize and back at her with a small grin. “Surprise.”

She smiled at him, considering the flavors of venison, thick and heavier than beef. Several spices jumped out at her and she knew what to add to the sauce to make it all work together. “I’ve just the thing,” she said, that smile reaching her voice. His eyebrow quirked and she turned away, looking over Eric’s spice rack.

She drew down rosemary – dried from the garden and stored in recycled spice bottles – and asked Daryl to get a bit of the wine stored in the basement-turned-cellar. “The red zinfandel.” When he returned she added them both to the sauce and more black pepper. “Go ahead and add the meat,” she directed and as he obliged she couldn’t help how her mouth watered at the sight of his arms flexing. The scent changed subtly and she stirred the ingredients, retrieving a second spoon for tasting.

The bright taste of tomato and garlic was joined by the sharp curl of rosemary and underlined by the venison, brought to the fore with the hint of zest and earthiness of black pepper. Daryl’s arms were around her, mouth darting in to lick the underside of her spoon just after her tongue had left the bowl, startling her into a laugh.

His nose nearly brushed hers and his eyes were darker in his face, a look of hunger as his mouth came crashing into hers. Their kisses were more practiced now, though in his fervor his teeth clacked against hers before he eased into her.

Her lower back was pressed between the stovetop and his hard body, her hand being gently lowered to the counter to one side as his mouth devoured her, tasting of wood smoke and sauce. His teeth caught her lip and she moaned into his mouth. She gasped sharply and winced when her back grew too warm over the sauce and burner behind her. Daryl immediately pulled her into him as she flinched, concerned eyes questioning upon hers while he wordlessly skimmed her lower back with gentle fingertips. Though the gesture was suddenly devoid of sexual heat, the care in his eyes and gentle fingers kept her burning for him as lust alone never could.

“I’m okay,” she whispered, just before he slid his finger over a tender spot just to the left of her spine and she flinched. His eyes both teasing and admonishing, he guided her to turn, which she did, leaning a little on the counter just to the side of the stove.

“M’sorry,” he said in a low voice, lifting the back of her shirt to examine the burn. His fingers skimmed the edges of it, sending fire up her spine, pleasure mingling with the pain.

Glancing into the simmering liquid, she whispered back, “It’s okay.”

“No, it ain’t. I got careless.” He turned her by the hips, looking down into her eyes with an expression like he was lost, half of him here with her and the other somewhere far away. His voice when he spoke again was softer, the echo of a ghost of pain. “I don’t ever wanna be careless with you.” His lips brushed her forehead and she could feel the slight tremble where his hands gripped her shoulders.

It hit her, then, what he was talking about, what he wasn’t saying. They’d not spoken of it, yet, in the heat and joy of her return, the busy schedule of getting acquainted with everyone in Alexandria and settling in with Maggie and Glenn as they prepared for their newest arrival. As Maggie played protective big sister to the fragile girl she’d never been in the first place.

“You’re too –

“Too what?” her tone, sharper than she intended, chafing against the way Maggie kept trying to treat her. Like she was something breakable. Chafing against the possibility of him…

She’d survived. She was strong.

Daryl’s eyes were patiently amused, a smile curling his lips into a half-smile as he brushed a strand of hair from her face, stroked her cheek with his thumb. “Too precious to me, girl.” _I can’t lose you again_ , the strange word, precious, from his lips seemed to say instead.

 _Oh_.

His lips met hers again, tender brush of warm and wet. She opened her mouth beneath his and let his tongue slide in and curl with hers, gripping him tighter in slowly clenching fists. He stole her breath and gave her his own, pressed himself into her, hips slowly grinding.

She broke away when she felt his erection through his jeans.

“Wait,” she whispered, “Aaron and Eric are –

“Upstairs.” He laid a sweet, chaste kiss on her lips before pulling back, a gleam in his eyes that was both playful and dark. It was newer, something she’d begun to recognize as mischievous as they’d learned each other’s bodies. “And I need to make up for hurtin’ you.”

He knelt as she blushed, eyes wide and frantically looking over his head for their hosts as he knelt before her. “It ain’t your fault, you don’t have to –

Hard hands gripped her thighs gently, strong fingers pressing bands into her skin and the breath left her in a rush. He was looking up at her in that gentle way he had, head tilted to one side as he regarded her. His eyes were intense and almost peaceful, half-smile quirking his lips. The dark circles had been more pronounced when she’d first seen him, fading slowly now. He brushed the scruff of his chin against her jeans, just to the side of her zipper as he looked up at her.

“Yes I do.” His eyes held a ‘please’ he didn’t voice, didn’t need to. She combed fingers through his hair, brushing it out of his eyes to see them better and didn’t stop him when he bent his head to place a kiss over her pubic bone.

Their eyes locked as he pulled her jeans down her thighs, hands splayed wide as they tracked up the backs of her thighs, turning his head to press a kiss to the inside. His fingers dug into the soft flesh just beneath her ass and she trembled, a soft moan escaping. She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth to stifle the sound when he laid into her.

He thrust his face into her cunt, hands spreading her legs apart as she stood there above him, anchored by his grip and one hand on the edge of the counter. His mouth devoured her, wide and all seeking tongue lapping at her inner lips hungrily before closing over her clit. His tongue fluttered over the swelling tissues rapidly, sending pleasure shooting down her legs and up to her breasts.

She cried out again, biting the back of her hand and clenching a fist in his hair, twisting slightly when one of his fingers slipped between her folds. He thrust slowly, making her ache and wonder for a moment why he didn’t – his finger curled into her and stroked her _there_ , just so and she tensed, feeling her orgasm rapidly approaching like a freight train.

The sound of footfalls on the stairs at the other side of the kitchen wall penetrated her delirium and she cursed quietly, looked over her shoulder at the pot of now-boiling water.

Spaghetti.

Daryl had stood to shield her and was pulling up her jeans as Aaron and Eric bypassed the kitchen carrying cloth and shiny things she barely registered while she fought for clarity.

By the sounds, they were setting up the table. _Thank God Eric thought to set out the cutlery._

Daryl’s chest and stomach were pressed to her back once more, arms encircling her as he kissed her cheek. “Hand me the pasta?” He obliged, retrieving the dried spears from the container and bracketing her between his arms as he reached out and broke them in half, letting them fall into the water in a careful spill that kept them from sticking together.

She giggled, delighted and then was struck silent with the realization of where his hand had been seconds before and blushed, grateful the boiling water would take care of contamination. _Don’t think about it._

“Daryl’s back?” came Aaron’s voice from the other room.

“Yeah,” she called, “He got us some deer for the spaghetti.”

His low groan was the only warning she had before he slipped a hand into her jeans, cupping her still-hot mound with his palm and stroking her sensually, making her shiver as he pressed hard against her clit.

“Need a hand with it?”

He stroked her lips, spreading the wet slipping between them and slid two fingers inside her.

She opened her mouth and nothing came out for a horrifying moment but a soft sigh of pleasure. Terrified they’d walk in, she wrangled her voice into some semblance of order and called with a blush, “No, Daryl’s giving me a hand.”

The whole of his hand moved on her flesh in a quick, steadily increasing pace, fingers curling inside her while his thumb rolled slick over her clit, sending pleasure like a spark into flame through her. She grasped the handle of the oven door, quieted her gasp in the back of her fist and rode his hand in a stuttering rhythm.

An arm wrapped around her, held her tight against him, anchored her while she leaned her head back against his shoulder. He brushed her cheek with the scruff of his chin, pressed sweet hungry kisses to her skin and let her feel him hard against her hip. Her arm wrapped around his neck and distantly she sensed the steam rising from the stovetop as moisture filled the air.

Or maybe it was them.

She bit her lip, held her breath as his fingers sank deeper, and worked over her nerves in that spot that always ached. It felt like liquid light was shooting through her body, like she’d been caught on an electrified wire as she convulsed in time with his touch.

His fingers were relentless on her, inside her and tears pricked the corners of her eyes as she rode the pleasure of his hand and it went on and on, holding her breath, hiding her face in his neck to keep from brining interruption.

She tensed in his arms, almost locked into place as she fought her voice, fought herself to keep from thrashing, clenched her eyes shut and pressed harder into his skin. Naught but a strangled whimper escaped.

His hands framed her hips as she came down, hot and clinging for a moment, streaking a curve of wet on one side. Lips found her neck, shoulder and she brushed a loose curl out of her face, leaning in to kiss him. It was gentle, brief and held hints of his hunger.

After helping her straighten her clothes, he watched her pour out the hot water and strain the noodles. Deliberately, he raised his fingers to his lips while she watched and sucked her juices off of them. It made her ache all over again; would it ever be enough?

When she lifted the noodles to carry to the dinner table, she leaned up and kissed him as she passed. Tasting herself on his lips sparked that ache in her again and she curled her tongue against his hungrily.

“Could you two wait until after dinner?”

Blushing furiously, she broke the kiss. Daryl pulled her in for one last brush of lips and let her go to face Aaron, offering a sheepish smile that had nothing to do with being caught kissing her lover. “Nope,” she quipped, giggling as she walked into the dining room.

Aaron smiled, watching Daryl follow her out with the still-simmering sauce held in a kitchen towel. They all sat down, Beth beside Daryl across from Erick while Aaron sat at the unofficial head of the table, catty-corner from his husband.

The table was draped with a warm orange cloth, set with nice plates and polished cutlery. Beth wasn’t sure if they were silver, but she’d helped Eric clean them to keep from worrying after Daryl had gone out. It didn’t matter, anyway. He was here, the lights were replaced by candlelight and they were surrounded by good friends, about to eat a delicious meal.

“This looks delicious,” said Eric, “You hungry, Daryl?”

Daryl smiled at Beth and lifted her hand from beneath the table to kiss her knuckles.

“Yeah.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what to say about this. This was meant to be for Bethyl Smut Week Aug '16 (it happened mostly at that time I just needed to finish it).
> 
> And the spaghetti contamination was entirely accidental until it happened and my realization just went into the fic >.


End file.
